


To Tell the Truth

by Liz Kenobi (Amidala_Thrace)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-01
Updated: 2010-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amidala_Thrace/pseuds/Liz%20Kenobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His refusal to see sense infuriates Padmé to the point of shouting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Tell the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> A missing scene from _Attack of the Clones_, written for the Big Things in Life prompt #9 First fight with fiancé. Originally posted August 24, 2008.

"I want to tell them."

Padmé looks up from where she is researching traditional Nubian wedding vows. She bites her lip and decides to feign ignorance. "Tell who, Ani? Tell them what?"

"You _know_ what I'm talking about. Tell your parents, tell Obi-Wan. Tell them about the wedding. Tell them that we're in love, and we're getting married tomorrow." He shifts in his chair. "I know we said we'd keep it a secret but – I've been thinking, and maybe what you said is right."

"Ani –" she starts, then sighs. "What did I say?"

"That it would be impossible to live a lie like that. You said what we feel for each other is so transparent, even your sister saw it. How are we going to keep this?"

"We'll have to. It's not as though we have a choice; you'll be expelled from the Jedi Order if anyone finds out!"

"I know," he replies impatiently. "But when other beings get married, don't they have big ceremonies? Don't they invite all their relatives, all their friends? I'm not saying it's that way in every culture, but in one as family-oriented as Naboo's …"

Padmé gazes down at her datapad, trying not to see the suggestions given for the traditional lighting of the unity candle by mother and daughter. She recalls her sister's ceremony with all the clarity of an unsolicited memory: the words of encouragement and devotion spoken by Jobal, the thanks and expressions of love Sola returned. Hadn't she, Padmé, dreamed of doing that one day? She _wants_ to hear her mother speak of Anakin and of how he is a perfect choice as husband and what sorts of memories Jobal recalls from Padmé's childhood. She wants to thank her mother for making her the person she is today.

"Anakin, it won't work. It doesn't matter what I want or don't want. We _must_ keep this a secret. The risks that come with not doing so are too great."

Anakin barks a mirthless laugh. "Risks? _Risks?_ Padmé, haven't we already _faced_ risks? Are you trying to tell me that it wasn't _risky_ on Geonosis? That we weren't at _risk_ of being torn apart by those beasts or shot to pieces by droids? That this hand –" he brandishes his mechanical arm "– that I got it for _fun?_ How can you even say such things?"

"Ani, _no_." She is angry at being misunderstood, and she throws her datapad aside and fixes him with a steely glare. "Besides the fact that marriage is against the Jedi Code – as well you know – the news would undoubtedly leak out and the media would have a field day with it. They would demand to know why you believe yourself to be above the Code. And assassins would get wind of it and they would use you against me or me against you. I couldn't live like that, Anakin! I couldn't live knowing that I might be responsible for your suffering."

"Assassins, kidnapping me." He snorts indelicately. "I'd like to see them _try_. I'd like to see them try and make off with you, too! I'd protect you, even if I _had_ been expelled from the Order! In fact, I could probably protect you _better!_ I wouldn't be off fighting this stupid war! And _kriff_ the media!"

His refusal to see sense infuriates Padmé to the point of shouting. "Like it or not, they're a part of our lives! You and I are in the public eye; it's just a part of the lives we have both chosen to lead. You need to accept that, just as you need to accept my point of view and my reasoning behind why this _must_ be a secret."

"I don't need to accept anything," Anakin snaps. "Except for the fact that you are being unreasonable. Are you afraid to get married? Is that it?"

"_What?_" Her jaw drops.

"Well, _are_ you?" he challenges. "Are you ashamed? Ashamed of some part of what we have with each other, ashamed of our love, ashamed of –" Anakin stops cold. "Is there someone else?"

"_No!_" Padmé screams. "You've been guarding me for a lunar cycle, you've seen – _who would there be?_"

"Excuse me, Master Anakin?" A mechanical voice rings out near the doorway. "Miss Padmé? I detected elevated stress levels emanating from this room. Is there anything wrong?"

They whip around. C3PO stands next to a lamp, cocking his head in what he assumes to be a concerned pose.

Anakin exhales a long breath. "No, Threepio. There's nothing wrong, I assure you."

"I see. Might I get you both a snack? A drink, perhaps?"

Padmé commands her lips to smile, embarrassment spreading across her cheeks at the droid having caught them arguing. "No thank you, Threepio. Perhaps later."

"Ah. Very well." He totters from the room. R2D2, following behind, gives a concerned toot and turns to leave.

"Droids," Anakin mutters. "The only witnesses to our marriage – two _droids_."

She swallows. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"Maybe." He shrugs evasively. "I just think there should be _family_ there. Someone who raised us, someone who cares."

"Look, Anakin." Padmé brushes a lock of hair back from her face. "Something's wrong, something more than you wanting my family at our wedding. I agree that it would be nice, but under the circumstances, it's simply impossible. As long as the droids are there to witness and sign the appropriate forms, the marriage contract will be legal. I think this is about something else. This argument, this disagreement, has its roots in a different desire."

Anakin eyes her darkly. "What do you mean?"

"What do you _think_ I mean? Anakin, you just lost your mother, all of a tenday ago. Surely that's a lot to get used to!"

"So you're saying I just want Mom there? That's _ridiculous!_"

"Is it? Is it really?" She sits, the better to appear less intimidating. "We've got to be honest with each other. Otherwise, this will never work."

He begins to pace, making a circuit from the couch around the coffee table and finally to the fireplace, resting his hand on the cool marble surface. "Why is that important to you?"

Padmé fights to keep her tone neutral. "It's important to me because I'm going to be your wife! And that means more than just binding to you for eternity. At least, it means more to _me_. It means that I want to help you, to be someone you can confide in. To be someone you can _trust!_"

"I _do_ trust you!"

"Then tell me the truth!"

Anakin balls his hands into fists, squeezing and releasing, seeming to have some furious inner fight with himself. His breaths are deliberately slow, measured, but they grow ragged as he bites his lip and looks away. He is staring towards the fireplace, into the fire, but she can tell he is not really seeing it. He sees what she does: a gravestone, understated and white, poking up from the Tatooine sand like a jagged tooth. He sees himself kneeling before it, wondering how he can promise to be a better person when he feels like such a failure.

"Ani," Padmé whispers. Without realizing it she has gone to him, put her arm around him. "It takes time. You expect too much of yourself."

He takes another deep breath, embracing her. "I do wish – I do wish she could … well, be here."

"Of course you do. I wish that, too."

"Do you think she would be proud of me?" Anakin fixes her with a nervous gaze.

Padmé considers. She knows her word is worth more to him than a simple validation. "I think she would. You're flawed, Ani, but so is everyone else. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone does things they later regret. Everyone is … mortal. You may be a Jedi, but you're not infallible. I believe your mother would have recognized that. I believe she would have praised you for not only reaching your potential, but exceeding it."

He winks. "And the non-politician answer?"

"The – _Anakin!_" She smiles in spite of herself. "Come on. I didn't mean to be a politician."

"I know. Sometimes it just slips out." Anakin wraps his arms around her, kissing her soundly. "So …?"

Padmé laughs and gives him a light swat. "So you're incorrigible!"

"And?"

"And … yes. She would have been very proud of you."

He smiles, and sighs, and rests his chin on the top of her head. "I guess we just had our first fight."

"I guess we did." Padmé bites her lip, uncomfortable with the thought.

Anakin looks contemplative. "Mom used to tell me that disagreement between beings is unavoidable sometimes. She says … said … that as long as they make up afterwards, and it doesn't escalate to violence, conflict can even be healthy."

"My mother used to say the same thing." Still, she feels funny about it, and even stranger at thinking of Shmi in the past tense. "Mom also used to say that reconciling after a fight made the whole thing completely worthwhile."

"Reconciling?" There's a sparkle in his eyes. "And just how do we reconcile, Angel?"

Padmé grins, running her fingers through his short hair and twirling his braid around her index finger. She brings his face to hers, ghosting her lips against his cheek.

"Like this."


End file.
